


All You're Worth

by Silver Lioness (Rumpels_Darker_Dearie)



Series: Nothing [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Date Rape, Exclusively on AO3, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Legilimency, Mind Manipulation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Occlumency, Psychological Torture, captor, prisoner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 13:39:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13365867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumpels_Darker_Dearie/pseuds/Silver%20Lioness
Summary: Hermione awakens in a cell with a stranger fixing her wounds but the dark room is imbued with a dark potion that brings forth sexual fantasies for the captor to enact on the prisoner.Her captor is old Corban Yaxley, a Death Eater that is grizzled, gnarly, probably was in school with the Dark Lord...She tries to fight off the potions effects but he just releases more and releases her when she would see her entire collapse into nothing...According to him...It was all she was worth!





	All You're Worth

**Author's Note:**

> RAPE from the start and throughout.
> 
> Hermione is 16-Years-Old but I decided to mark it underage as it is happening right at the end of her fifth year. 
> 
> DATE RAPE, RAPE, ANY. FORM. OF. MANIPULATION is horrific, wrong, disgusting, perverted and degraded. I wanted to show how ugly this act is by using someone who is reprehensible in everything - looks, personality, attitudes... I wanted to describe it in such a way that left her vulnerable and angry. Hermione is no one's doormat but we will see something happen to her - her personality will shift. We know Hermione, the moment he walked out of that door she plot's her revenge.
> 
> This is Part One in the Nothing Series. This does not need to be read to read Parts two and three if you would rather wait for those to happen I do not blame you.
> 
> Part Two - we meet Zaradan Yaxley - the Cornish Branch of the family whom I have fancast the delightfully fit Gerard Butler. Also, Lucius Malfoy puts in his appearance...
> 
> Part Three - we find out what Nothing actually means to the Ancient Laws of Magic

**NOTES:** This story is adopted from **Xx_Astrid_xX** on AO3. She asked for people to adopt this story and, so I took the child and hopefully it will grow and flourish under my care. I decided to change the kidnapper. Lucius will feature as he did in the original, but I may change the role from what **Astrid** had in mind.

I am going to turn this into a series, with this as **Part One**. A stand-alone one-shot that can be read to make part two more understandable. Part two can be read without this as parts shall get quoted or paraphrased.

**TRIGGERS:** Rape, Kidnapping, Dungeon, Sex Magic, Legilimency, Occlumency, Torture, Psychological Torture, Forced Orgasm.

****

** All Your Worth **

Hermione Granger awoke with her arms chained together on a slimy wall. She thought she was in some sort of cave. It was the only thing she could see; her head wasn’t moving, and her eyes were squinting, full of water.

After a moment, she screamed as unbelievable pain shot through her body. Searing agony scorched her head as if she had the world’s biggest hangover. Her neck felt as if she had been struggling through a hangman’s noose. Her shoulders were definitely dislocated. Her torso was covered in scabbing, bloody wounds. Extreme nausea overwhelmed her- probably from the blood loss. Her hips felt as if they’d been snapped in half at her groin. She couldn’t even feel her legs. Fearfully worried, in her drowsy state that she didn’t have any, they both tingled with the most burning sensation of pins and needles she’d ever felt.

Slowly, she managed to move her head forward. It felt so heavy, she swore it was falling off of her body. Her spine cracked loudly several times before her chin hit her chest. Yep, she smiled triumphantly in her dozed state, she had one…oh, another one, yes! TWO! Ha! She had two legs dangling from her body at awkward angles.

What happened to her so that her shirt and jacket were ripped to ribbons. Her jeans were extremely tight and looked damp. What was that poking in her armpit? She peered down further and groaned at the state of her bra. Poking out from its hold was the underwire of her brazier. It jutted straight out thus able to poke her now exposed underarms and the crook of her neck. Her clothes were stained with blood.

Or, to put it bluntly; her clothes were wrecked! Conclusion, no pocket money to buy books. Ugh, what had happened before she woke up?

“Tergeo,” she heard in a gruff, crisp voice behind her, and the blood was gone. “Vulnera Sanentur.” The wounds closed up and she gasped gently.

“Thank you,” Hermione croaked quietly, reluctantly; the man healing her may well be the man who had injured her. However, with how groggy she was, it could be an ally her out-of-it mind couldn’t place. “Sir,” she added after a coughing fit.

“Oh, I am sure you are _grateful_ ,” the harsh grunt sent shivers up her spine.

Definitely an enemy. Macnair? Professor Snape? No, the voice was too guttural… Bellatrix? No, it lacked the shrill quality of that witch’s voice.

“Who are you?” she murmured. “Where am I? What happened?”

The witch or wizard behind her chuckled. “At least you used your manners before asking pointless _questions_ …” Ugh, that cologne ought to be banned. Her captor was a man, and definitely not Professor Snape, his voice starred in too many of her fantasies for it to be him. Suddenly, she remembered a news bulletin on the Wizards Radio Network, “I was told you were an obnoxious little lass.”

“Yaxley!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, indeed. I’m surprised you remembered my voice.” Corban Yaxley finally walked around the bed so he was in front of her. He was dressed in fine black and silver robes. Little silver serpents wriggled and writhed around his long, bell like sleeves. Along with his grizzled features and slightly gnarled hands he looked like a wizard from stories she once loved so long ago.

Like his robes, Yaxley sported long, silky hair that was currently worn straight down his back. In spite of their appearance, Corban’s hands gracefully held his wand. It made Hermione sick to look at him as his cold pale blue eyes sparkled hungrily in the gloomy cell. Yaxley’s mouth spread in a small, cocky smile, amusement evident in his countenance.

“Why, thank you.”

Confusion coursed through the drowsy teenager before it hit her! Legilimency, of course. She tried to utilize Occlumens, but was not mentally capable, and she made a noise of frustration. Yaxley let out a low, short chuckle.

“Such a smart girl. Beautiful, resourceful… Shame all of your talents were wasted on a mere _mudblood_. Much like another I once knew,” he ran a finger tenderly over her cheek causing her to shrink against the lumpy mattress she was situated on. “I admit you have been a bone of contention to the Ministry for quite some time.” Corban continued walking. “However, now, with you gone… Our Lord will be relieved of what could be a cause for migraine, in his future.”

“You…Ba…Stard!” she huffed out.

Hermione winced as she tried to slap his hand away, grunting a little with the effort it took and from the agony she was suffering. Corban reacted by raising a disdainful brow at her. She grunted as she tried to aim her foot at his crotch.

“Do try to hold in such _buffoonish_ noises as comes natural to your kind.”

Fury seared through the sixteen-year-old and Yaxley sighed. He silently waved his wand and her wild, dark hair was suddenly untangled and clean a loose braid spiralled down her spine. He waved his wand once more, and her already ripped jacket and shredded shirt fell to the floor.

“No!” she tried to shout but came out hoarsely.

She had to show how offended she was through her defiant gaze. Corban rolled his pale blue eyes as she tried to cover herself with her arms crossed over her breasts. She sat shivering pathetically on the mattress.

“I have a wife and children,” he sneered creasing his already rugged face into darkness and sinister intentions. “Several mistresses, also,” he said nonchalantly. “Nothing a sixteen-year-old girl has is new to me.”

Hermione scowled at him as he waved her jeans away. Her face showing exactly how feral he was making her. His features twisted into disgust when he found that the only thing protecting her slit from him was a small bushel of dark curls.

He sighed and waved his wand once more; he had confused her by covering her dignity with a new pair clean white cotton panties. Especially as his next move made her trainers and socks disappear. He cast one final spell and the rest of her pain dissipated, though the grogginess in her head remained. She soon realized she was freezing _and_ starving.

“Now, to answer your questions,” Yaxley said. “I, as you have already realized, am Corban Yaxley. You are in one of the many dungeons of Yaxley Gates,” he paused as he tilted her chin up and smirked. “One of my personal favourites; it fogs the mind of any captive within, without hindering the captor, should he wish to come down here,” he was eager to show off its features so readily to a witch with an eidetic memory. “You, my pet,” he bent down so his eyes were inches from her own. “Were captured in what people, (and by people, I mean The Daily Prophet), have come to refer to as the Battle of the Department of Mysteries.”

Slowly, jumbled memories came together at the man’s words, she must have been gazing desperately at him because his expression resembled something of the shark as it found a school of tuna to feed on. He raised his brows gazing intently at her, as if wondering what she would say.

“Are…” she gulped as she whispered, her breath mingled with his.

“Yes, little pet?”

“Are my friends alright?”

Corban’s brows fell the smile shortened as he _pretended_ to show deep concern. “Indeed,” he sighed as he rubbed her naked shoulder, ignoring the flinch she made when his skin touched hers. “Oh,” he said with another dark smile. “There were no casualties, as such, the red headed boy landed in a brain vat that’s probably made him sound more intelligent than previously, oh and a sexy little slip of a girl broke her leg, and I am certain the fat kid got knocked out by a lump of concrete. The other one, the delicious looking blonde who I could have for breakfast was probably the only one unscathed…”

“You’re despicable,” she said. “You stay away from those two!”

“I have not told you the best part, darling,” he leaned further in, his foul breath wafted over her cheeks as his bulbous nose brushed against her pert one, “Bellatrix Lestrange pruned her family tree of its most cankerous branch,” her eyes widened. “The great Sirius Black foiled by a curtain, how droll, don’t worry, I am sure no one will miss him.”

Hermione swallowed, then looked back down, as tears gathered in her eyes: “Harry will,” she gulped down the lump in her throat.

“Poor wee Potter, the world would run around its orbit for him but where was it when my Master was a grimy old orphanage where he was beaten black and blue!” his varnish was beginning to crack as he drew back from her. “Whilst people like you were offered protection amongst wizarding families – your precious Dumbledore made sure he rotted in hell when he was just a child!”

No, that cannot be true. Dumbledore saw good in everybody – he gave Snape a chance, why would he condemn a child he knew and taught in a time of war? Was Dumbledore in part to blame for his uprising? Before Hermione could contemplate this point further she found herself whipped up in the air – invisible shackles curled around her ankles and wrists. Deliberately placed to be at the perfect height to look into Yaxley’s contemptible eyes.

Yaxley stood there tilting his head as he gazed at Hermione hung there, trapped, stretched in such a manner he could take her in any place he pleased. This needed deliberation, for that he remained in silence for several long moments before Corban broke it.

“That’s it, then?” he said mocking her. “No more questions, no begging for release, no screaming profanities at me?”

Corban was disappointed to say the least, he’d heard how spirited Miss Granger was, he liked fire hearted fillies to break and train. There was something odd about his behaviour, as if he wanted her to do those things.

“Do this often?” Hermione quipped, her throat was sore.

Corban gave her a dark, intense look.

“More than you may imagine,” he replied.

Hermione looked away: “Why?”

“You’ll need to be more specific.”

“Why am I here?”

Corban seemed to think it over, before giving a graceful, nonchalant shrug. “Why not?”

Hermione hacked out a sob of despair at her hopeless situation. How was she to come free from this if no one on their side was aware she was missing? What about her parents? Harry, she lowered her head to keep the sounds of sorrow down.

Yaxley moved closer and unshackled the girl, making sure she landed on something soft. He did not spend all that time and magic to fix her only for her to break her bones five minutes after. Corban clicked his fingers.

“You will soon be mine, do you know what I have just done, my pet?”

She curled her lip in a sneer: “Go screw yourself!”

“Oh, no, I do not think so. I think you are going to be quite fine for the job. Soon, I shall release a potion, as invisible as gas, that will seep into your brain opening your mind. Your fantasies shall soon be mine.”

Hermione tried to block her nose and mouth: “That would not work,” he said dispassionately. “The gas has already entered your system. You can do little to fight it. Soon, little girl, you will be putty in my hands.”

“No!” she screamed as she grunted with pain to fight him off. Without her wand she was ineffective as a fighter. She could punch a boy like Draco but not this twisted man made extra strong by anger. “YOU’RE NOT GOING TO HAVE ME! NO ONE IS!”

The vile wizard reached out and grabbed her by the waist, shocked her yet again when Corban tenderly lowered her onto an extremely large black velvet cushion. She squirmed in his filthy, gnarled hands.

He could see the gas was beginning to take effect, patiently waiting until her eyes glazed over. It only took her moments before she laid on her back. Her manner compliant. As soon as her naked flesh met the comforting warmth of the oversized pillow she was already a little relaxed and released a soft sigh and a watery smile.

“I figured you would have put up much more of a fight,” remarked the Death Eater, “then again that is the beauty of this neat little potion.”

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to care at this point. He walked slowly up to her drugged form. Cautiously, she opened her left eye to see him crouched beside her.

Yaxley tutted at her, then snapped his fingers; suddenly, she was wide awake. She looked at him as he shifted, then parted her legs. She frowned, confused once more as she watched him fiddling about with his belt. He knelt between her thighs, leaned over her, one hand to the right of her head, the other snaking over her waist, he grinned.

“You said thank you so prettily,” he crooned vulgarly in her ear, “now’s the time for _you_ to show _me_ how _grateful_ you really are!”

He slammed her wrists suddenly beside her ears. Her eyes and mouth wide open in shock. Coldly, he glared down at her as she tried to twist her body underneath him. She was just aware of something happening that was wrong, perverted but it was as if her muscles had gone to sleep.

“Just stay still like a good little Mudblood,” he murmured.

Frightened of what she may see Hermione closed her eyes and let her head tilt to the side. When they were closed she felt numb, a sort of pleasant fizziness entered her mind allowing her to just relax. Besides, she sighed, Mudblood was such a wonderful sounding word. Like she was made of mud. Like she was made of mud _and_ had a superpower for making things grow extra-fast. Mudblood Girl – she can feed the thousands of Africa! She giggled as the gas calmed her as it addled her mind.

Corban gently traced her body over with his hands. She opened her eyes again to see the oddly aesthetic contrast of his roughened, gnarled hands on her smooth, untouched flesh.

That feels weird, she found herself thinking. Instead of focusing on what the wizard was doing as he removed her panties she was hypnotised by the pretty colours dancing in her eyes. Completely unaware that he lifted the material up to his crudely shaped nose and sniffed in her aroma. He tucked them into his robes.

Then he swooped down on her body. He watched a fantasy of Viktor Krum seducing her in the dungeons, a few real memories of his sensational kisses overcame the visions. From that he gained the knowledge he needed to assault her body.

Convinced she was with Viktor, she arched up her hips to allow him to do with her as he willed. He nuzzled his odd nose into the crook of her neck, fervently petting it with harsh, wet kisses. She cooed as his experienced tongue traced her skin, as his strong arms wrapped around her. He was big, and masculine, and brilliant, and she was small, and feminine, and complaisant…

… Then she made a noise as she realized… no, she wasn’t with Viktor at all. Panic filled her… Panic, and terror… She didn’t want-

He realised a stronger dose was needed so he clicked his fingers twice.

The dark feelings soon melted away as his callused hands roughly massaged her breasts with his warm hands. “What do you want me to do, right this minute, Hermyowninny?” he murmured hungrily into her precious young skin, making sure he sounded like Viktor. “Vat is it you vant from me?”

What did she want? She didn’t want him to stop… Ever. “Viktor, please don’t stop.”

He leaned back and looked down at her thin body, a strange look in his eyes, then met hers. “Show me your desire, my Hermie,” he cooed.

Suddenly, she thought about all the fantasies she’d ever had. Ones of Snape calling her in his office for extra credit and refusing unless she laid across his desk naked as a new-born whilst he petted her like a cat. The many varied ones she’d had about Viktor. She recalled the one of Lucius Malfoy (how that occurred she still did not know), where he had come to visit the school on Governor business and found her in a hallway all on her own and would not let her pass unless she offered to _polish his wand_ for him.

They were all fantasies, however, as she was still a virgin. Oh, so the little mudblood likes darker older men – this should be easy, Corban’s thick cracked lips curved in a dark smirk.

Corban gruffly took her lips in his. He was utterly delighted that she kissed him back, thoughtlessly moving her tongue against his, her lips in rhythm with his. He felt himself spinning out of control as he ground against her core with his hardening erection. He gripped onto her thighs, forcing them to stay open by pinching his fingertips into the soft flesh causing her to wince a little but otherwise impervious to any other pain.

The pressure that ‘Viktor’ had built between her legs felt surprisingly good to her. His burgeoning penis sent a message to her stomach, she felt a tingling warmth and the feeling of… _something_ …something animal. Her non-cognisant state made her feel like jelly.

She moaned in protest as he pulled back and moved down to her small breasts: “Such perfect little ripe peaches for me to suck on,” he growled as he sucked one hungrily in his mouth. He was mimicking, showing her what she would soon be doing to his dick. He let go with a small pop, only to start suckling her proudly erect tawny nipple, “oh so sweet, so good, so tender, so… _young_!”

She whimpered as an odd, sharp pleasure rippled through her chest, and gasped as the same feeling intensified when his crooked, yellowing teeth bit down on her breast.

Again, she was vaguely aware that something was wrong. Viktor did not have long straggly blond hair. Neither was he wrinkled around the forehead. She was absolutely certain that this was… He felt her coming back to her senses again. He had snarled as he clicked his fingers, yet again, to release more.

He licked around his bite, soothing her throbbing flesh. When it looked somewhat better he switched to the other little breast: “Oh darling, my Hermie,” he said again mimicking what he saw of Viktor in her mind. To show her Vik her appreciation, she then began rubbing against his clothed shaft willing for her own release to come. “Mmm, you really like me, don’t you Hermie,” he growled.

She was sure to burst if he did not kiss her soon. Her entire body was a puddle of insatiate lust. Once he felt the dampness from her core he reached down a hand and slipped it between their bodies, slowly he rubbed his hand against her open slit, and she sighed and relaxed as she felt a sharp tang of absolute bliss as ‘Viktor’ began playing with her in earnest murmuring the endearments Corban had gained in Bulgarian.

Completely unaware of the toxic potion insidiously creeping into her system to keep her docile and accepting of this spiteful man’s assault, Hermione continued acting like the grunting wizard above her was her heart’s desire. She was lost in her own fantasy! Believing it with all her being that Viktor Krum was indeed seducing her, saying and doing these delicious things.

A dark, proud smirk adorned his lips, before he started kissing her sensually again. It was torture for him to be rubbing her slowly in the desperate search for an even purer; a delectably intense pang that would surely climb the pinnacle of Nirvana itself. His fingers danced within her and she cooed into his mouth, his lips left hers and she whimpered desperately to have them back. He continued to slowly play with her clit enjoying enacting the fantasy he’d seen in her head.

Ah, his eyes lit up, her thighs twitched! A sure sign she was coming soon. She was so enthralled by his fingers deep within her that she was incapable of kissing him back. He began to pick up the pace, increasing his assault on her.

She felt like she needed to do _something_ , as if she had some kind of growling beast burning deep in her belly demanding a desperate need of release, and she begged incoherently for something she had no comprehension of needing. Supine in his arms – the man she thought was Viktor due to the poisoning of her thoughts – continued his ministrations.

He groaned into her mouth, suddenly his greedy, lovely fingers were moving faster. Her mewls and squeals were a symphony of sounds the depraved Death Eater could listen to over and again. Fascination overtook his being as he continued to bring her closer to an unexplored, delicious edge. She growled and grunted in primal rage as he suddenly stopped, leaving her feeling unsatisfied.

Her mesmeric state compelled her to watch as he slowly undressed. Her eyes followed glistening fingers as they, to her addled senses, elegantly unclasped the outer robe. Then he untied the leather straps that kept his dragonhide chest plate on. She gulped as she saw his scarred neck, he took his silk white tunic and tore it straight from his body. He yanked his trousers down, keeping his boots on.

Without any warning he pushed himself inside of her; sweet Nimue, he sighed. Her glazed eyes rolled into the back of her head as he jerked his hips thrusting smoothly inside her. He felt so big and foreign, she mused.

Was it not supposed to hurt on first entry? She was now so out of herself that she shrugged nonchalantly, as she lay back to enjoy ‘Viktor’. Moaning and purring underneath him. Encouraging him to go harder, to go faster!

Suddenly, he clapped his hands clearing the mists in her mind. Regaining her own thoughts, clarity of perceptions, and logical self. He wanted to see her fight. She glanced up and found the craggiest looking man on top of her. She was not in the arms of Viktor Krum but in the unnatural embrace of this ugly man.

She felt sick, physically ill. As soon as she was her proper self she tried to fight him off; this despicable, disgusting man, who looked old enough to be her grandfather. His face a rictus of twisted pleasure whilst he continued thrusting in and out of her like his life depended on it.

Anger now consumed her. She lifted her legs and kicked at him, clawing her nails into whatever flesh she could reach, in an effort to fight him off. It was too late! Not even the deep state of euphoria he was in stopped him from casting wandlessly and wordlessly.

Again, invisible rope bound her wrists and ankles together.

She screamed and wept as he pounded her. Hating every minute of it now she was in her right mind. Yaxley leered down at her; he was still exerting Legilimens. Her fantasies had helped make sure she was wet enough for him to slide in and out.

Her inner walls disobeyed her as they gripped around his average but girthy member as it slammed against her cervix. His eyes rolled back in his head. His vile hands gripped onto her breasts causing her to yell in pain. Red angry stripes formed on them. Ignoring her screams, he kept thrusting into her. He moved one hand off one achingly sore breast and soon started to swirl his fingers on her now engorged, needy clit.

She sucked in air.

“You will come for me, you little mudblood, this is all you’re worthy of,” his other hand slipped down her back to caress her bottom cheeks, he soothed the area first before drawing his finger up her anal passage which stung. “Come, come my little pet, my prize. Come!”

Hermione tried to twist herself out from him, but his gruff hands bruised her hips trying to keep her in place. She gasped and screamed, gasped and screamed in a steady rhythm. Quickly, she felt her body seemingly explode with colour. Her groin spasming in a way Hermione couldn’t explain.

Still, Corban was dissatisfied as she forced herself to remain quiet by biting into the cushion. He twiddled her clit still, even though her limbs were tingling as though a thousand thousand needles had inserted themselves in the layers of her skin. She was so listless that the girl could swear she was going to die here, at the hand of an old, hate-filled, cruel Death Eater.

Yaxley pounded her more roughly at her thoughts of him. Really letting go as he inserted a finger up her sphincter. Her shocked gasp and the grunt of pain that followed were somewhat intoxicating to the grizzled man.

“Is that what you think of me?” he shouted in her scared face, spit flew all over her body. “Is that how you thank me?” he snarled as he yanked his finger out of her anus and wrapped his hands tightly about her throat strangling her. “Is that how you wish this to be after how _nicely_ I’ve treated you?” He mocked.

“You have not treated me nicely at all, you have made fun of me, stripped me naked, you raped my mind _and_ body!” she shouted back. “Using my own fantasies against me. YOU ARE DESPICABLE!”

His response was to yank her hair and twist the plait around his wrist, to ensure the maximum amount of pain: “I clothed you, bitch,” he pounded with each word. “I cured you of your pain! I even stopped Dolohov from cursing you with the vicious Amethyst Flame. You,” he tugged on her hair as he continued his assault, “OWE ME!”

“I don’t owe you anything!” she snarled reaching up to scratch at his face clawing at his eyes.

He yowled in agony as he felt her tear into him. Her body went over the edge again, and she screamed as it all felt so wrong; it had to end, it just had to. He had to stop, she couldn’t handle it- she couldn’t feel anything now.

“THIS,” he shouted, “is all you are, mudblood,” Corban growled. “A dirty little whore with holes that needs to be filled by wizards better than you”

She tried to ignore the persistent throbbing of her head that was the effect of him pulling and tugging on her hair like he was some Neanderthal dragging his woman to the cave. She was going to survive, to outlive the pain, to overcome what this man had done to her. Hermione vowed to ensure a vicious demise just for him.

No! That extra liquid could not be from him? Was he ejaculating? A short, amused laugh erupted from his belly. Then he shuddered.

If Hermione thought he’d gained his release, she was wrong.

He just slammed faster. Harder. His body jerked and jolted.

His thrusts were short, sharp shocks into her system. Her walls tightened as she arched her body. She refused to come but he saw the thought, so he pinched her clit as his thrusts became urgent.

With a whoosh and a sigh, he came!

She hated the fact that she was forced to take his seed.

She glared at him spitefully. He growled quite happily as he felt it go limp inside her and slowly withdrew from her savaged body. His expression remained blank as he observed his semen slowly dripping out of her.

He also watched her crawl into the centre of the black velvet cushion crying into the material.

She felt absolutely horrible.  

Disgusting.

Dirty!

She wept for herself, for Harry, for Sirius. Most of all, she wept for her parents who probably had no clue where she was.

“Such an ingrate.” spat Corban coldly.

He narrowed his eyes, already bored of her self-pitying display of woe. He reached out, grabbing her by her braid, yanking her towards him just to remind her, once again, who called the shots here. She yelled out in pain.

“LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU DEVIL’S BASTARD!”

“Shut up,” he roared. “You could have had it oh so very good,”

He scowled at her body writhing and twisting under his Crucio. Starting to bruise and bleed. It felt like hours had passed before he shoved her back onto the pillow.

“I would rather you rot in hell,” she said darkly, her tears drying due to anger and the need for vengeance.

He proceeded to redress carefully making sure everything was correctly arranged whilst his lips curled in a vicious sneer. The sixteen-year-old curled into herself and cried.

“That is not a threat, my little pet,” Corban hissed down at her.

He limped his way to the iron clad oak door of her cell. All she could see was his greying blond hair. She felt as if she would puke any moment now. His hand was raised on the heavy sliding locks that could only move to their Master’s and his trusted, command. He looked over his shoulder to meet the eyes of the girl one final time.

“This will be my only time with you, my dear little mite,” she clutched the cushion and held it over her body, so he would not have the pleasure of gazing upon the wreck he’d made of her. “You shall have your wish granted. However,” he smirked, “there is no Harry Potter to save you now, you woodlouse.”

“The Order will rescue me!” she said defiantly.

“Let’s see if you are so smart with that pretty little mouth of yours when you meet my colleagues who are all dying to get a little taste of you, my little mealworm.”

“I would rather die.”

“My dear,” he said as he stepped through the open door, “that is rather the point, you see – mudblood – we are going to turn you into darkness itself. Soon, Miss Hermione Granger, you will be reduced to nothing more than a husk. I know you would rather die, but imagine my cupcake, what life would be like if you lost your ability to think…imagine what you will be when you are nothing but a drone slave for our Lord?”

She flinched as the door banged against the frame. The slip-slide of the bolt to shut her in echoed like a death bell to her pumping heart.

Hermione was left in the centre of the cell; battered, bruised, ravaged, and cold. She lay the pillow down flat and curled on it as much as she could to keep her warm. She did not think she’d sleep ever again.

Fear’s fingers crawled into Hermione’s heart as she lay there wide-awake and absolutely sore, frozen to the bone, and so alone.

Who were the others that could do worse things to her? Were they bigger than him? Would they take everything she had? Would she really be reduced to the state of nothing?

A state she’d only ever thought could exist in sci-fi stories like Doctor Who!

The cold dark cell offered no comfort whatsoever. Dismally, she shrunk further into the shadows as she wondered what, or who, could happen upon her next.

Most of all, though, her thoughts went out to her parents.

Oh, please, do not let them know I am missing.

I’d never be able to see Harry again!

_The longer you’re here_ , a snide voice whispered inside her head said, _the more likely it is that Harry will die._

No, she thought as she gripped the cushion tightening it in her fists. They’d have to come through me first, and, fortunately for me, I can fight back.

I will!

I won’t let the bastards grind me down!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is an AO3 Exclusive.


End file.
